Erin Hunter - Twilight

She watched as Midnight lumbered away up the slope in the direction of the territory they had left. Her paws trembled with guilt and sadness; her Clanmates were in trouble, and she was deliberately choosing not to help them.

Crowfeather nuzzled her ear. “Let’s get some more sleep,” he meowed.

Leafpool curled up beside him under the thorn trees, but sleep refused to come. Her mind was filled with images of snarling badgers bursting into the ThunderClan camp, ripping apart her Clanmates.

StarClan be with them ! she prayed.

Her dream had shown her how savage the attack would be.

She remembered the dreams that the other medicine cats had described at the Moonpool, dreams of darkness and slashing claws. And now she had received the same message from StarClan. Leafpool’s pelt tingled; the starry warriors were still speaking to her. She hadn’t lied to Midnight when she said she was still a medicine cat.

She could tell Crowfeather wasn’t asleep either. He kept shifting restlessly, and once she heard him sigh. He pressed closer to her, as if trying to comfort her, or himself.

At last Leafpool drifted into a light, troubled sleep. She seemed to float in gray mist, with nothing to tell her where she was. Suddenly the emptiness was ripped apart by a shriek of agony.

“StarClan, help me!”

Leafpool leapt up, trembling, to see the thorn branches outlined against a sky growing pale with the first light of dawn. She had recognized the voice in her dream; it was Cinderpelt.

“Crowfeather!” she gasped. “I can’t stay here. We have to go back.”

Crowfeather lifted his head. His amber eyes were sad. “I know,” he meowed. “I feel the same way. We have to go and help our Clans.”

Relief flooded over Leafpool. She loved him even more at that moment because he understood, because he cared for his Clanmates as much as she cared for hers. Briefly she pressed her muzzle against his, with a purr that lasted no more than a heartbeat.

“Let’s go,” she meowed.

“Mouse dung!” Squirrelflight muttered. The starling she had just missed fluttered onto a branch above her head, while her empty claws sank into the moss. How was she supposed to concentrate on hunting when every waking moment was filled with worry about her sister?

I should have stopped her , she thought bleakly.

“Bad luck,” Ashfur meowed, coming up behind her.

“Should we call it a day? We’ve got more than enough to carry back.”

“Okay.” Squirrelflight followed him to the place under a thorn bush where he had scraped earth over their previous kills. Spiderleg joined them, a squirrel dangling from his jaws, and the hunting patrol headed back to camp.

“Come on,” Ashfur murmured to Squirrelflight when they had dropped their catch on the fresh-kill pile. “Leafpool will be fine.”

“How can she be fine, when she’s left everything behind?”

Squirrelflight retorted.

“Why don’t you rest for a while?” the gray warrior suggested, pointing with his tail at a sunny spot near the wall of the hollow. “You hardly slept at all last night.”

“And I won’t be able to sleep now. I’m going to make sure Cinderpelt has eaten.”

Squirrelflight grabbed a vole from the fresh-kill pile and padded across the clearing to the medicine cat’s den.

Rounding the screen of brambles, she found Cinderpelt crouched in the opening of her den with her paws tucked under her. Her blue eyes were fixed on nothing.

Squirrelflight shivered; it looked as though Cinderpelt were gazing at horrors that only she could see.

The medicine cat blinked and looked up at her.

“Squirrelflight—is there any news?”

“About Leafpool?” Squirrelflight set the vole down in front of Cinderpelt. “No, nothing. I brought you some fresh-kill.”

The medicine cat turned her head away. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”

“You have to eat!” Squirrelflight protested. She wondered if Cinderpelt blamed herself for Leafpool’s disappearance.

The medicine cat seemed to have no courage or energy left.

“We need you more than ever, now that Leafpool’s gone.”

Cinderpelt let out a long sigh. “But I’ve failed. Utterly failed.”

“It’s not your fault!” Squirrelflight wriggled into the narrow opening beside Cinderpelt so that she could press herself comfortingly against her. “You’re a great medicine cat. What would ThunderClan do without you?”

Cinderpelt gazed at her, a searching look that made Squirrelflight feel like she was about to drown in the blue depths of her eyes. Cinderpelt seemed to be on the verge of confiding something to her, but all she said was, “I wish things didn’t have to change.”

“They don’t have to. They won’t . Leafpool will come back.

We have to believe that.”

Cinderpelt shook her head and closed her eyes.

Squirrelflight stretched out a paw and nudged the vole a bit closer to her. “Come on, you’ll feel better when you’ve eaten.”

Cinderpelt hesitated, then bent down to sniff the fresh-kill. “Squirrelflight, will you go and check on Sorreltail?” she meowed after a moment. “I’m worried about her. You know what good friends she and Leafpool were.”

“Does Sorreltail know what’s happened?” Confined to the nursery because her kits were due any day, the young tortoiseshell warrior might not have heard the news.

“Yes, I told her last night.” To Squirrelflight’s relief, Cinderpelt was beginning to sound more like her normal self.

“She was upset, and I gave her some poppy seed to help her sleep.”

“Sure, I’ll look in on her. On one condition—that I see you eating that vole before I go.”

A faint gleam of humor crept into Cinderpelt’s eyes. “You never give up, do you? All right—and call me if Sorreltail needs anything.”

As Squirrelflight slid out of the den, the medicine cat sniffed the vole again, took a bite, and then began to eat more quickly, as if she had suddenly realized how hungry she was.

Squirrelflight left her to it and headed for the nursery. Just outside, Brightheart was bending over Berrykit. She straightened up as Squirrelflight approached.

“There!” she mewed. “That thorn won’t bother you again.

Give your paw a good lick now.”

“Thanks!” Berrykit looked up admiringly at the ginger and white she-cat. The horse place cats seemed to have stopped noticing her scars. “You’re the best medicine cat ever!”

“I’m not a medicine cat,” Brightheart corrected him, with a sidelong glance at Squirrelflight. “ThunderClan already has two medicine cats. I’ll never be one.”

“Well, I think you are,” Berrykit meowed, licking his paw vigorously.

It’s a pity Brightheart couldn’t have said that while Leafpool was here , Squirrelflight thought. “Hi,” she mewed. “Cinderpelt sent me to check on Sorreltail.”

“Sorreltail’s fine,” Brightheart told her. “She and Daisy shared a rabbit earlier, and now she’s asleep again. Great StarClan, she’s huge ,” she added. “It can’t be long before she starts to kit.”

“That’s good.” Squirrelflight tried to summon up enthusiasm, but she couldn’t get excited about the first kits to be born in their new home when her mind was filled with worrying about Leafpool and Cinderpelt.

She poked her head into the nursery and saw a tortoiseshell mound of fur sleeping peacefully among the moss and ferns. Daisy and Ferncloud were close beside the young warrior, sharing tongues and mewing softly to each other. Both of them glanced up and twitched their whiskers in greeting to Squirrelflight.